Control
by Evergreendusk
Summary: Gunpowder had been invented by a Zhongnese village living in poverty. Supposed to be used for cooking, this deadly weapon could change Erdas' direction forever… (Set after fotb #8)


**hello! it's me, and i'm starting a new series to improve this writing thing! i haven't postes in a long long while mostly because of laziness lol and because my old stories were cringey and they killed me. here's a new series i thought of at eleven pm and worked on for two hours. i was inspired by the wiki page of Chinese inventions?**

At the brink of dawn, Meilin had woken up with nothing but a pillow in her arms. A quiet summer morning; perfect for the delicious breakfast at Greenhaven.

Only, she wasn't at Greenhaven.

She was at her father's funeral party.

It was cruel enough for the head General to call a funeral for soldiers "a funeral _party_ ", though what had made everything even worse was how they _celebrated_ it. "Dances," Yenni had said, blushing in a way like he wanted to ask her. "It's going to be lots of fun." _I wonder if they're going to dance all over my grave, too_ , Meilin thought darkly. _Wear fancy makeup, eat fancy fruitcake get fancily drunk._

Fun.

Tons and tons and tons of fun.

It felt wrong, but after four consecutive years of war, fun was all Meilin wanted to have. It felt only right to do her ritual of makeup and looks into the mirror before every big event. She sat in front of her vanity, staring at her own reflection, as well as the wooden box full of cosmetics laying in front of her eyes.

As she applied her lipstick, she thought how Yenni had specifically noted to bring a date. This made her hand slip; lipstick smudging in a line, on her cheek.

 _Maybe I could invite Rollan on a date with me to my own dad's funeral._ Even if she wanted to, he was halfway across the world, enjoying life as the son of a schoolteacher. He was gone with his mother, helping her teach poor, marked student, the same person he was four years ago.

Going through her closet, Meilin picked out her white dress. It was still a day of mourning, no matter how many layers of makeup and fruitcake and drinking you paint over it. There was an old and dark song she used to sing as a young child. It talked about how white was the colour of death, and how the doves seemed to agree. These childhood memories- they reminded hee of her father- alive and bold and alive and brave and alive and-

A gentle knock on the door had interrupted her mirror inspections.

"Miss Meilin?"

"Yes?" she responded, manipulating her voice to sound petite and polite.

"May I come in?"

"Yes."

A maid, the one with the longer, wavy hair; the younger one, came into her dressing room, clearing her throat. She wasn't Kusha, unfortunately, but she, too, was dressed in the same purple colour Kusha would claim her own.

It reminded her too much of the day she had first joined the Greencloaks.

"My apologies for interrupting, Miss, but there has been an outbreak in West Laoshan, and the party has been moved to next week."

"Laoshan? That's halfway across Zhong!"

"Yes, but it's a- it's a _special situation._ "

The maid had said _special_ like it was a birthday party, or a ten out of ten, when it was clearly not anything good related.

"And what are we doing about this _special situation_?" Meilin said _special situation_ the exact way the maid had said it. Perhaps to terrify her, perhaps to mock her.

And it worked.

"All we can do, Miss."

"Which is?"

The maid bit her lip. She hesitated, thinking of a good answer, and when deciding she had none, she responded with, "Nothing."

"Great. It's always nothing. No troops sent, no scouts, and somehow that means it affects the funeral."

"Oh- sorry Miss, I didn't realise-"

Meilin sighed. She knew it wasn't the maid's fault all of this was happening, and that all she wanted to do was fold her blankets and earn her livings. "It's fine. You can go back."

She shook her head; her long braid shaking with it. "No, Miss, I am not allowed to. The Emperor has sent me to accompany you in your room."

 _Oh, great._

"I understand."

* * *

Meilin didn't understand. Three thousand kilometers away laid Laoshan; a week long horse ride. In fact, if they were being invaded, it would be best to perform the ceremony before the invaders came.

She had tried asking the maid- Luian, it turns out- for the answers as to why they couldn't leave, but she wouldn't respond.

Life was boring without news. Life was anticipating without known news. But it was plain disappointing when there was someone who wasn't allowed to tell you the news, so you did nothing but look with your eyes. She saw bare walls. After the second Devourer war, they were painted with no joy, by no artist, and with no effort. _White is the colour of death. And the doves seemed to agree._

She felt like a prisoner trapped inside a luxurious mansion room; she sat at the edge of her bed, in a white mourning dress, with no grave to shed tears in front of, no painting to remember, and no one else to remember her father with.

She felt so lonely.

* * *

Somewhere else, three thousand kilometers away from Jano Rion, _from Meilin,_ there was a village who let nobody in, and nobody out.

Not that the village was independent, nor was it rebellious, but that it was surrounded by rows and rows of men with knives on their belts and badges on their chests.

Fearful. Scary.

Even scarier, from one heartbeat to the next; an emergency law was passed. It stated this:

"An immediate shutdown of the ports, the borders with Eura, the borders of the forests, and all communication to and from the outside. No one will step from their city, town, village, or rural area. Everyone must remain in their areas. Nobody in Zhong will travel or communicate across any borders until the issue is resolved."

 **boring intro, i promise it gets a lot better aight?**


End file.
